Canis Familiaris
by Hoodoo
Summary: A short discussion of Billy.


_Disclaimer: I do not own the A-Team. I do own dogs. Two of them are featured within this piece._

_Note: I don't know where this piece came from. I'm on a pretty strong antibiotic for a cat bite; maybe I'm strung out. Anyway, I have to forewarn that this is set in the indistinct future, and is slightly-more-than-not AU. It's also not canon for the movie-verse, since Murdock never mentions Billy, but well . . . it's here nonetheless._

Enjoy!

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><p>"Do you think Billy is a Great Dane?"<p>

"No. He's never been that big."

"Not even a puppy Great Dane? They're not too big."

Murdock smiled. "But puppies grow. Billy was always the same size, and he wasn't ever that big."

The boy beside him looked him straight in the eye as if trying to determine if Murdock was sticking to his story, or if he was changing the facts to suit the whims of the day.

Finally the boy nodded, appeased, and turned back to the book on his lap.

Murdock sat contentedly beside him on the bench and continued to watch him. The boy flipped through the pages, skimming some, stopping and using the same scrutinizing eye on the photos contained within as he had on Murdock previously. Some pages he marked with a torn scrap of paper, to return to.

"What about this one?" he asked, holding the book open widely. "It's not so big."

Murdock looked over the photo. "Naw," he replied. "Definitely not a Chinese Crested. That one's too hairy, and that one doesn't have any hair. I told you Billy has short hair."

"Hmm . . ."

The search continued.

The boy had asked many times through the years what Billy looked like. Through the years, Murdock told him. When the boy was younger, he would point out dogs they saw, asking if that's Billy, or that one, or that one. Murdock always told him no. The boy was patient, and continued asking.

He had tried to draw Billy once, in crayons. Murdock took the slightly sticky paper from the boy and looked it over seriously, turning the picture this way and that. He hoped he wouldn't disappoint the boy too much when he told him it wasn't exactly right.

As the boy got older, not too old, but old enough to start cataloging what he'd been told and keeping track of the consistencies of Murdock's descriptions, he began narrowing down the possibilities.

Murdock didn't mind. He's always been truthful when the boy asked about Billy. And maybe, with this encyclopedia of dog breeds they'd found at a used book store, they'd discover Billy together.

"So . . . you said short hair. Not too big, but not too small. Like twenty pounds? Or forty pounds?"

Murdock shrugged and nodded, trying to determine how much twenty pounds versus forty pound of dog was in his head.

The boy continued. "And he doesn't have a smooshed-in face. That's called . . ."

Distracted a moment, the boy turned to the glossary in the back of the book.

"Brach—brachy . . ."

Murdock glanced over the page, to the word marked by the boy's finger. "Brachycephalic," he advised.

"Brake-ee-cef-al-ic," the boy copied.

Murdock nodded. "Right."

The boy nodded too. "Okay. So none of them. And you said he has pointy ears, like a proper dog." The boy turned to him suddenly, squinting up at him. "He's not a wild dog, is he? Like a jackal or a coyote or something? They aren't too big and have pointy ears."

"No, no!" Murdock chuckled, the sobered when the boy narrowed his eyes. "Billy's not a wild dog."

"Jackals have short hair . . ." the boy said with determination.

"I cross my heart Billy is not a wild dog." Murdock demonstrated his sincerity with a dramatic ex pantomimed over his chest.

"Okay . . ." the boy conceded, then went back to his book. He turned pages and mused, "Short hair, pointy ears, not too big, not too small . . . and . . . white?"

Murdock looked over the page he offered. "Billy's got color too. That dog's all white."

"You mean like this?"

The boy turned to the next page with such efficiency Murdock wondered if he was being set up. He studied the photo on the page carefully.

"Ooo, that's close!" he had to admit. He wasn't stringing the boy along; the colored Bull Terrier was nearest the boy had found to his Billy. Prick ears, a wide grin with expressive eyes, like there was laughter somewhere inside . . .

Eventually, though, he had to shake his head. "Not quite right. Sorry. This dog's head isn't the right shape. I'd certainly have mentioned it if Billy had a head shaped like an egg!"

Slightly crest-fallen, the boy nodded again. "Yeah, that's pretty weird."

The two sat quietly for a moment.

The boy thumbed through to one last marked page. "Last one. What about this?"

Once more Murdock looked into the book. If the Bull Terrier was close, this one beat it by a nose. Foxy red and white, with a more normal looking muzzle, ears so pricked it caused worried wrinkles across its forehead, and short hair. Not too large, either, just big enough to be substantial but small enough to be carried comfortably. Its eyes were dark.

"It says here that they don't bark," the boy read aloud. "Billy doesn't bark much, does he?"

"Sometimes. But not much."

"Look at its tail! All curly! Is Billy's tail curly?" asked the boy. Excitement clouded his voice. He had never asked about Billy's tail before, and this might be the answer to all his questions.

Murdock smiled at the obvious enthusiasm. He paused, then said gently,

"I have to say that this dog, this . . . Basenji probably looks more like Billy than any others we've seen. But it's not exactly right. Billy's tail isn't curled up like that. He can wag it like a whip."

"Oh."

"But . . . now that I think about it, maybe Billy's part Basenji. Maybe his mama or his papa was a Basenji, and the other one wasn't, so he looks more like one than the other."

The boy squinted up at him again, and even though he'd known it and seen it the boy's entire life, Murdock was stuck by the fact the boy's green eyes were his own. And when the boy smiled, it was like a reflection of his own open grin when he was that age.

"Yeah, okay," the boy agreed amicably. "That makes sense."

Murdock nodded. He wouldn't tell him that it had been many, many years since Billy had been around; he'd only been going on memory to describe his appearance. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of his dog since his son was born.

And that was fine.

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><p><em>fin.<em>


End file.
